Rainfall
by a torrential fear
Summary: ...Thunderstorms had a way of humbling me. With every flash of lightening, I knew that my imperfections, both physical and otherwise, were illuminated in the split-second of blinding light that was superseded by a deafening clap of thunder...


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Rainfall

By: A Torrential Fear

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CHAPTER ONE

The tears of heaven fluttered through the crisp night air, effectively disturbing my moonlight reverie. The effervescent gleam of the raindrops as they gracefully descended upon my unsuspecting form was almost ethereal in its simplistic beauty; in the pathetically dominant throes of Nature, I felt the elements bask in the glory of limitlessness. Their supremacy was unquestioned, my inadequacy in the face of such brilliance never more apparent.

Thunderstorms had a way of humbling me. With every flash of lightening, I knew that my imperfections, both physical and otherwise, were illuminated in the split-second of blinding light that was superseded by a deafening clap of thunder. The sheer force of the pellets of moisture and ice that cascaded from the pitch black sky was enough to render me silent and helpless: such power was unheard of in my narrow-minded world of house elves and shoddy subterfuge. I never ceased to be astonished by the unabashed arrogance that an unforeseen tempest could sweep through on, the supercilious wings of conceit flying the rolling mass of gray-blue clouds right on over a thousand year old castle said to be both unbreakable and impenetrable. Only I seemed to be aware that if the rain fell hard enough, if the lightening struck close enough, we would all be proven wrong.

I didn't bother sharing my pessimistic observation with anyone else in my Astronomy class that evening, though. It didn't seem worth it to instill in them an irrational fear, an unnatural phobia of sorts, all for the sake of my mindless eccentricities. Rather, I let them all pack away their telescopes with weary grumbles, my own high-end model getting soaked in the downpour as I watched the torrential opening of the atmosphere.

"Malfoy what the hell do you think you're doing? Didn't you hear the professor? This is the mother of all storms, and she explicitly instructed us all to return to our dormitories. You haven't even dissembled your telescope, for God's sake!" came the scolding voice of the Gryffindor Goddess, with all her otherworldly virtue and purity as she chastised me for something that had absolutely nothing to do with her.

This was her latest method of torment, I'd discovered in the months prior: instead of rancorous insults, deliberately spiteful remarks, she'd decided that the façade of innocent castigation would bother me much more than any ruthless comments she could make would. And she was right. But I don't think she understood exactly how well she'd guessed.

See, the verbal abuse I could take. It was hateful to be sure, but at the same time it was common ground, familiar territory. I knew where I stood when I was being shouted. But when she pretended to care, pretended to want what was best for me, it hurt. Not because I was starved for affection or any of that rubbish; no, it hurt because she knew exactly how much it rankled me.

I hated that she could make me slip up and respond good-naturedly. I hated that I couldn't tell her off without appearing to be even more of an arsehole that I already was known to be. And I especially hated that with a few false, admonitory words she could render me speechless, while at the same time infuriating me more than she had ever dreamed was possible.

"Shove off, Granger. Can't you see I'm studying my horoscope?" I asked her sarcastically, not turning my back to face her: not out of indifference, however. More out of my desire to never let her witness my clenched teeth and thin lips.

"Like you can even see the stars through all that rain. Suit yourself, Malfoy. If you want to catch your death in this weather, by all means, go right ahead. I'll just laugh when your nose turns pink from sneezing," she told me loftily, flouncing away and leaving me alone in the Astronomy Tower.

Her voice echoed through my head, the blood pounding so violently through my veins that I was relatively surprised an artery hadn't burst. It wasn't her words, so much as her tone, that had incensed me to that breaking point I tried so hard to avoid. Degrading, condescending; completely and irrationally _superior_. It was infuriating to be looked down upon, and it was all I could do not to wrap my fingers around that milky white throat and squeeze every last breath out of her body. But, of course, it wasn't my admirable self-control that stopped me from doing just that.

No, the real reason she was still alive and breathing was because she had already walked away from me. Just like everyone else.

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End file.
